


Selective Amnesia

by HYPERFocused



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: First Times, Humor, M/M, challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 09:41:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/796821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HYPERFocused/pseuds/HYPERFocused
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim thinks Blair has selective amnesia. Blair remembers the important stuff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Selective Amnesia

## Selective Amnesia

#### by HYPERFocused

Author's website: <http://members.aol.com/hyperfocused>  
I didn't forget that I don't own them.  
  
Written for the Sentinel_Thurs "amnesia" challenge.  


* * *

"Jesus, Blair, sometimes I think you have selective amnesia," Jim spat, a mouthful of something grayish brown preceding his words into the sink. Gross. Even with his senses, Jim couldn't identify it exactly. It was something Blair had picked up from the new health food store across the street from the public library. Jim had been in there once, hoping to bring home something Blair would like for dinner, but the scent of Patchouli and recently ingested marijuana products made him a little sick. 

He was still a little surprised Blair never indulged, but Blair's "My mind takes me to weird enough places on its own, Jim, I don't need help," made a lot of sense. 

Blair had probably told him the history and social significance of each ingredient, but Jim didn't remember. Half the time he tuned the kid out anyway, or more likely got distracted by the way Blair's full lips moved when he talked, or the strands of visible energy his animated hands caused. Blair didn't know Jim could see that. Jim kept that little tidbit to himself. For some reason, he didn't want Blair analyzing it, or giving it some cheesy new-age name. It was just part of what made Jim happy to be around Blair, one of the few plusses to the weirdness of this whole experience. 

What was irritating, Jim thought, was the way Blair never seemed to listen to him. He'd told the kid a million times if he'd told him once, vegetables in the blue containers, desserts in the white, and Blair's disgusting concoctions could go in the green. And here he was again, having to spit bean sprouts and hummus, or whatever the hell it was, into the sink. Yuck. It was going to take a triple Wonder-burger to get that taste out of his mouth. Stupid healthy eating. Not that the lifestyle had done Blair any harm. For someone who had not so long ago been strictly an academic, Blair was in terrific shape. Yeah, Jim had noticed. Jim noticed pretty much everything about Blair, including the fact that Blair was noticing him right back. 

Because of this, Jim felt he could cut Blair some slack about all the little things he forgot about. Jim knew he had a lot of rules he wanted - needed -- Blair to follow, and maybe he was a little bit anal, as Blair had said on more than one occasion. "You don't know the half of it, Chief," he'd muttered under his breath, shaking his head when Blair looked back to see what he'd said. 

"Come on Jim, I heard you say something. You can tell me. If we don't have honesty between us, what do we have?" 

"I just said 'I won't have it," Jim lied. "And then I felt bad, because I know you don't mean to be forgetful." 

'I'm sorry, man. I guess I just have a lot going on in here." Blair thumped himself on the forehead. "I remember the big stuff, though. I promise, I'll try to be better." 

It went on like that for months. He'd come home dirty from a chase into a garbage filled alley, and step into a shower where Blair had left his herbal shampoo scented towel on the tile floor. Jim didn't object to the reminder of Blair's russet curls, but it was the principle of the thing. He did hate when the hot water was gone. Blair didn't know the meaning of water conservation, despite his environmentalist leanings. 

Often, Blair would forget to pick up Jim's favorite barbecue corn chips when he went to the store, but he'd always remember the strange dried vegetable slices he liked to snack on. Jim kind of got used to the weird chips, too, though he still didn't know what Taro root was. And sometimes there would be articles about the effects of salt on the heart, or how they'd just done a study on how X additive stayed in the average body for twenty years, with a note scrawled on it saying 'and you don't have an average _anything_ Jim." 

Nice of him to notice. Jim just wished he'd get up off his admittedly delectable ass and do something about it. Jim should probably make the first move, but he wasn't sure he could take the risk. Things were good between them, except for the little annoyances, and Jim didn't want to rock the boat until he was absolutely certain it wouldn't capsize. Blair was the brave one in their partnership. Friendship. Relationship - whatever it was. 

More recently, it was Blair's bravery that made Jim even surer he had some weird form of amnesia. Because otherwise, why would Blair forget it was his job just to observe, and that he was supposed to stay in the goddamned truck whenever there was even the possibility of trouble. But no, Blair jumped right out into the thick of things, as if his force of will could stop whatever danger lurked. The trouble was, often it did. Just not without dragging Blair into it as well. Watching Blair get hurt was not what Jim had signed up for when they'd first made their agreement. Of course he hadn't signed up to fall in love with the kid, or worry this much, or have the guy making his apartment a home nearly a year after his 'just a week, man' promise. 

It all came to a head finally, after a particularly unpleasant week. Several difficult cases (both in terms of the criminal element, and the wear and tear on Jim's senses) had both of them feeling snappish. And the more Blair stressed about Jim's health and well being in the big sense, the more he let the little things go. "I'm sorry, Jim. I was too busy worrying that that drug kingpin was going to _shoot you in the head_ that I kind of let the dishes slide. Forgive me for being more concerned about your life than your precious wedding china." 

Jim tried to understand that, but it was almost the opposite for him. The more he worried about just what the hell he had gotten Blair into, the more Jim got upset about the unimportant things. He got caught up in the minutiae of everyday life. Not only did it give him something he could control, it also gave him a mental break, a respite from worry, at least for a little while. 

Jim came home especially late one Friday night. They'd closed an important case, and were going to go out and celebrate. Blair had begged out of drinks with the guys, claiming the need to get some university work done. Jim was disappointed, but figured Blair was entitled to some time alone. 

When he got back to the apartment, he expected to find Blair sacked out on the couch, or even in bed already, but he wasn't in front of the TV, or in his room. 

Instead, Jim found him dozing off in bed. Jim's bed. Jim tried to slip quietly in beside him, not wanting to wake him to ask what he was doing there. It was just nice to have Blair there at all. 

But Blair was a light sleeper, and opened sleepy eyes to Jim when Jim climbed in. 'Sorry, Jim, I forgot." 

"Forgot what, Chief?" 

"Forgot this wasn't my bed, too. Forgot I wasn't supposed to admit that I loved you." 

Jim let out a relieved laugh, and pulled Blair back against his chest. "Well, you know, ordinarily I'd be pissed, because you know how I hate when you forget things. But I think this bit of selective amnesia is I'm willing to let go." He paused a moment, to gather his courage. 'That is, of course, if you forgive my amnesia, as well." 

"Your amnesia?" 

"Yeah, Blair. I forgot to tell you I felt the same way. I always have." Jim could feel Blair grin in response, and thrilled when he turned and squirmed to kiss him. Forgetfulness aside, it was time to make some new memories. 

* * *

End Selective Amnesia by HYPERFocused: hyperfocused@aol.com  
Author and story notes above.

  
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